


Blight and Dark

by aaronze



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark, M/M, Mages, Magic, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 10:33:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6371371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aaronze/pseuds/aaronze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has just woken up with no memories of who or what he is. He instinctually recognizes his friend's house, but is confused when Scott is not whom he appears to be. Stiles hides who he is to fit in with the locals, but how long can he really expect to hide the truth from those who claim to be his best friends while working out what really happened for the last 16 years of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blight and Dark

It didn't so much as feel like he was waking up, as it was the world crashing down into his senses in one of the most unpleasant awakenings he has ever experienced. His head was pounding with a migraine that felt like it would last for days. His body ached all over, highly fatigued, struggling to come to life. And a bright light assaulting his poor eyes with the blinding warmth of the noon sun of the day.

Despite the universe commanding he stay down, Stiles managed to open his eyes and shift into a less prone position and he started collecting himself and taking stock of his situation.

Almost immediately, his mind filled with a despair or terror, he wasn't sure which was stronger. He also wasn't sure why. Though he was in a fair amount of pain, he wasn't in any immediate danger. He also didn't know of anything to be so terrified about. In fact, he was missing a lot of knowledge about a lot of things that he reasoned should really be there.

For example, who he was. Where he was. What he was doing. All excellent questions that Stiles was completely baffled to not be able to answer. His mind was full of thoughts and memories, though anytime he tried to focus on any of them, it would disappear right before his very eyes. Like a wisp of smoke that refused to be caught.

Groaning and shielding his eyes from the far too bright sun, Stiles looked around himself. While the soft yet firm ground should have really given it away earlier, he could now tell for sure that he was currently sitting on grass. He was quite sure it was grass anyway. Though he didn't know what the grass was for.

Either way, the grass was definitely connected to a wood and metal structure. A house, his mind helpfully supplied. He felt calmer, like this house was some sort of safe place for him. Yet he could not find any such memory that would've convinced him of that. It was just instinct. 

Stiles looked back down and curiously examined the grass beneath him where he was just laying. Peculiar, his mind supplied again, grass isn't normally supposed to be singed black in the shape of his body. His instincts tell him that something was very wrong, but again he couldn't work out exactly what.

Slowly manipulating his body into a crouched standing position, as he moaned in pain, he ambled his way towards the house, closer to the feeling of safety. His feet automatically took him to what was obviously a door, designed to be opened. Stiles reached his hand out to the handle, and started turning it, driven by muscle memory. He's quite sure he has done this many times before.

The handle stopped turning early, a strange resistance stopping his motion. Locked, his mind chirpily added. 

Stiles placed several fingers on his head, and started massaging his temple. His migraine seemed to have improved, but it was still hurting like hell. 

Peering back at the door handle, Stiles began to enact another familiar action from muscle memory. He repeatedly struck the door with a closed fist. Knocking, his mind translated.

He didn't know how he knew it, but he knew that if he waited long enough the door would open by itself. Stiles scoffed. The mage who enchanted this door must be extremely primitive if the door took that long to function.

Mage. That word finally drew up some glimpses of memories from his void of a brain. He could see them, like a fuzzy T.V. Signal, barely making it out among the noise, but he could definitely see them. Mages. Wielding magic with such ease and practice like a human walking. His heart throbbed with a deep seated grief and mourning that he regretfully could not explain. 

He shook himself from his contemplation of his first recovered memory as the door finally opened itself. Stiles reigned in his scoff of displeasure this time. It wouldn't do well to insult the poor mage who was standing there in the doorway.

Standing in front of him was a teenage boy, a mop of black hair sitting on his head - which was currently tilted quizzically. Stiles easily recognized the expression as confusion.

“Stiles?”

And what in the hell was a Stiles? He pondered how unfortunate he really must be if this creature spoke a completely different language to himself. 

“What are you doing here so early?” The boy with the black hair continued.

Oh, and that would be the right language. Which means, because while his seems to have lost most of his memories – his intellect luckily has remained intact, that “Stiles” must be his name.

“Hmm”, Stiles hummed out loud, gears turning in his head.

If this place felt like home, and this guy recognized him, then that must mean they are close. Friends maybe? Boyfriends? This teenager in front of him was very attractive. Stiles let his eyes march up and down the black haired boy in front of him and then nodded. Yep, he could see it. Only one way to know for sure though.

Stiles moved in towards the boy, who remained quizzically passive to his friend's advance. Well, he didn't seem uncomfortable sharing personal space. Stiles moved in closer to test his theory.

The boy was completely backed up against the open door now, still looking baffled as Stiles placed his body flush against his, moved his hand to the back of the boy's neck and locked his lips upon the other. 

As their lips met the other boy gasped in surprise, though Stiles could only feel him parting his lips in a clear sign of continuation. He wasted no time in placing his left hand on the boy's hip and pressing tighter against him, feeling his warmth spread between them. 

He also took advantage of the boy's willingly parted mouth and deepened the kiss, flicking his tongue out to explore the other boy's mouth. He tasted sweet and a little bitter, but the whole experience was amazing so far.

Stiles could feel himself harden in his pants, and also noticed the other boy reaching a similar reaction to the events. Well, before he was roughly shoved away by a furiously blushing and panting boy, completely flushed-red and looking thoroughly wrecked.

If his last gaze had been quizzical, then this expression was pure bewilderment.

“What the hell was that Stiles!?” The boy managed to squeak out, eye's wide and begging Stiles for immediate explanation.

Stiles made another humming noise while he gently massaged his chin, again in deep thought, trying to work out the situation. Well, clearly they weren't romantically involved. Shame. Probably friends then, likely Best Friends. Stiles couldn't identify the disbelievement he felt in his gut, like he shouldn't quite believe he's ever had a friend before, or even has one now. But the evidence speaks for itself.

Stiles pieced together the low risen sun, and the “so early” remark to formulate a greeting.

“Good Morning!” Stiles declared loudly, proud of his intelligence to solve situations quickly.

He needed to get a name though, he couldn't just keep calling this guy “the guy with black hair” in his head. And it might helpful to allow him to blend in with the locals. He again wasn't sure why that was important, but it sure felt as if it was.

His mind raced again, piecing together information with his fast cunning, and created a tactical masterpiece.

“Did you know that 83% of men can't say their name after being kissed?” Stiles started. “What about you?”

The boy in front of him looked at him like he was crazy, though he already was kind of looking at him like that anyway, so it wasn't a massive change of expression.

Finally, the boy managed to stammer out a “Scott”. Still looking at Stiles like he was the weirdest person on the planet – which, yea. Is probably true.

Success! He got a name, while also managing to get a cover story. 

“Huh.” Stiles said. “Well good on you, buddy. You beat the odds.”

Scott still looked completely baffled.

“You just m..made out with m..me...” Scott stammered, and slowly worked his way through the words. “Just to do a scientific experiment on me?”

Stiles saw a window of opportunity here, and he immediately engulfed it with his usual vigor.

“Do you think we need repeated experiments to get more accurate results?” Stiles asked, smirk solidly in place.

Scott looked horrified.

“NO!” he yelled, flailing his arms in front of him.

Stiles simply hummed again in response, while thinking with his big brain how to organize events again so that they happened to be making out. It was actually quite a lot of fun to mess with the boy with black … wait the boy had a name now... Scott. Yes, it was definitely fun to mess with Scott. But could he really hope to deceive a best friend he couldn't remember, that he was completely normal?

After a few seconds, Scott seemed to have recovered enough from the passing events and closed the door behind Stiles, expertly flicking the lock closed before making his way up the nearby set of stairs – obviously expecting Stiles to follow along behind him.

Stiles happily obliged to the unexpressed expectations and trailed after Scott, blatantly staring at his ass moving in front of him. Well, at least he had good taste in friends he supposed, even if they weren't exactly very bright or magically talented. In fact, Stiles had not sensed any active auras from this Scott person. If he didn't know any better, he would've said that Scott was an ordinary human and not a mage at all. But that didn't make sense, everyone knew that humans went extinct several hundred years ago during the Salem Cataclysm. 

Stiles frowned at the information swimming around his brain. Surely he couldn't be friends with a Human. He would've been found out in a heartbeat by the council. Still, it didn't hurt him anything to perform a quick aura test.

After following the boy into his room and closing the door behind him, he reached into his own aura and called out his magic into his palm. Stiles knew he wasn't anywhere as skilled as a real mage, but he had performed the magic test hundreds of times before, though the huge amount of frustration and grief that went along with those memories was unexplained. Why would a simple magic test be the cause of so much emotional pain, he wondered.

A thin shiny sliver of magic wove its way across his palm and collected itself around his wrist. Huh, well it was weaker then he expected, but he still felt some relief at its presence. While the boy's back was still to him he placed his open palm straight onto the boy's left wrist, sealing his hand around it and binding them together with their magic. Except. The other boy's magic didn't match his with his own magic thread.

Stiles immediately released Scott's wrist and stumbled back, gasping with a look of horror. Scott just stood there, looking at Stiles with yet another puzzled expression, as if he didn't know that the simple test he had just done would sign his execution warrant. Scott would be a wanted man, hunted down by the strongest Mages and exterminated like the vermin all Humans were.

“Stiles? … What's wrong?” Scott asked quietly, sensing the negative tension intuitively.

“Scott … Buddy …” Stiles started, unsure of just how to ask this monumental question. No one would be stupid enough to incriminate themselves, surely. But still, they were supposedly good friends, and he had an obligation to the feeling in his gut that said he should trust the other boy.

“Are you Human?” he asked carefully. Not wanting to unintentionally offend his friend.

Again, although he really wasn't sure how it was possible, Scott's face morphed into a level of confusion he previously thought couldn't be reached by mere mortals.

“Yea..” Scott said tentatively. “Are you OK, Stiles?”, he asked. “You're acting weirder then... usual”

Scott was completely unaware of the tumultuous brain storm currently waging its war inside Stiles' head. HUMAN!? His mind screamed. KILL IT, his mind demanded, BEFORE IT KILLS YOU. 

Stiles stood back, his back against the wall now, eyes frantically scanning and cataloging the room with possible weapons, their possible uses, advantages, disadvantages, critical weak points, durability, ease of access, agility and dexterity requirements. After just half a second passed he mapped out the best weapon, a cylinder of (probably) solid wood, with a convenient grip on its base for ease of use. Baseball Bat – a corner of his mind supplied.

Stiles scanned Scott's posture and muscle tension. He looked fairly normal, nothing to signify overt aggression or active defense. If he wasn't so amp-ed up himself, he would almost be convinced that the other guy was almost completely relaxed, besides the adorable puzzlement plastered over his face.

The other guy was clearly unarmed, unprepared to defend himself and not planning to attack. Which – yea, doesn't make any sense. If anyone had just found out that he were human (Which is most certainly 100% is not the case. No siree. Not a human bone in his body. Nope.) he would be freaking out and ready to attack the nearest person, let alone anyone threatening him. It could still be a fake-out, a ploy Scott is pulling to get him to relax for an unsuspected attack, but again, Stiles couldn't match that strategy with his instinctual trust for the other boy.

Stiles forcibly relaxed his outer muscles. Allowing himself to show a relaxed posture, but still ready to attack or defend at a moments notice. He subtly shifted his weight and stance to place himself closer to the baseball bat.

Scott was still looking at him oddly as he moved across the room to activate a thin box of color and sound. Stiles stared at the moving colors and frowned at its complexity as it formed structured shapes like people and environments. The spell-work involved in such a creation was truly impressive. Something that Scott seriously couldn't have done – even if he did possess hidden magical talents. Stiles attributed this fancy contraption to human-stuff, which as he glanced around the room, made him feel even more uncomfortable as he noticed distinctly more and more human-stuff that he couldn't explain.

Stiles considered the room full of things that Scott acted normally around, as if they weren't marvelous miracles, and it led Stiles to the most uncomfortable thought of them all. What if he wasn't in his home-place, what if he was in some sort of alternative world where Humans were the dominant species. And judging by the confused look in Scott's face, possibly the only complex species. A world completely devoid of Mages and Magic. 

Stiles shuddered. But he was smart, observant and adaptable. For now, he would make like the natives and be... Human.

Stiles laughed deprecatingly, waving off the look of concern from his friend as he took a seat next to him on the bed. As he watched the box with colors and sounds, he found himself interested to learn everything he can about this strange world – and more importantly – how to fit in.


End file.
